


Ashes to Ashes

by elegantlydisastrous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Family, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Pining, Romance, Suspense, Top!Stiles, bottom!Derek, is that a thing because it should be, neck kink, sterek, top!Derek/bottom!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantlydisastrous/pseuds/elegantlydisastrous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, the Sheriff was at the station when the fire happened but that poor boy…” The eldest of the women trails off for a moment. What? No. “he was home alone,” she finishes. The basket drops. Before he knows it, Derek is shoving past the three older women and running out of the grocery store.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ashes to Ashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be just drabble for a prompt I received but now it's turning into a multi-chaptered monster. I apologize in advance to the poor person that wanted a one shot but there will be smut to come. <3

Smoke is filling his lungs and Stiles is coughing so hard he tastes blood in the back of his throat. The flames are growing stronger downstairs; he can feel the surface beneath his feet on the second floor almost burning to the touch as he gets out of bed.

“Dad?” Stiles yells, calling to see if his father’s home. The bright lights of his alarm clock are the only thing he could see through the thick layer of smoke. It reads 6:45 pm so his father is definitely still at work. _Okay, Stiles. Focus._ He runs for the door, the handle hot to the touch but he manages to turn the knob. The smoke outside in the hallway is a lot worse than it is in his room so he runs back inside, closing the door shut behind him. Tears fill his eyes as everything starts to burn. As if his breathing wasn’t bad enough as it is, he starts to panic and honestly? The last thing he needs right now is an attack.

Everything is getting hotter and when he looks back towards the door, the bright red of the flames can be seen fast approaching, trying to make their way through the cracks. The window frame is burning hot when he tries to open it to climb out. Behind him the flames are closing in, the door he closed just moments ago slowly turning into a pile of ashes as they box him into this room. He can already feel his throat closing up and wow, that really hurts. The sleeves of the hoodie he fell asleep in has caught fire and he quickly strips it off but not before it burns into the skin of his forearm.

“Son of a bi-“ Stiles is freaking out, picks up the small television on the stand beside the window and breaks the glass. It’s a long jump from the second floor but he knows he hasn’t any other option. The last thing Stiles sees before he jumps is his house burning down around him. He falls with a loud thud and then everything goes black.

-xxx-

 _I hate shopping_ , Derek thinks to himself. He grabs hold of a bottle of dish detergent and tosses into the basket held in his other hand. Of course he forgot to make a list, so he’s going up and down every aisle in hopes he might remember what he needs. Normally nobody bothers him as he gets his errands done. If there’s someone in his way, usually one glare will get them to move. He hardly ever says a word to anyone and that’s just become the norm in their little town of Beacon Hills. Walking into the next aisle, Derek has to clear his throat twice to get three old women to notice him. He’d just turn and go the other way except there’s two more at the other end of the aisle.

“Excuse me,” Derek grunts. He hates to make any type of conversation so only speaks if he has to. He's half determined to leave the whole basket and just come back another time when one of the women eyes him suspiciously then jumps right into her conversation while sliding over a bit. He nods once at her as a thank you but she doesn’t even pay him any type of attention. Derek can’t help himself, he listens in.

“Well, the Sheriff was at the station when the fire happened but that poor boy…” The eldest of the women trails off for a moment. _What? No._ “he was home alone,” she finishes. The basket drops. Before he knows it, Derek is shoving past the three older women and running out of the grocery store. It’s early, about nine in the morning. Derek jumps into his Camaro and forgets all laws as he speeds to the Stilinski home. How hadn’t he heard about this? Granted Scott was away for the summer visiting an Aunt up in Washington but how did the rest of the pack not know? If they did, why wasn’t he told? A million questions race through Derek’s mind but the one that stood out the most was knowing if Stiles was okay. Despite how infuriating he found the human, he was part of his pack.

A few minutes later and he was parked in front of the Stilinski home, or where it used to be. Half of the first level of the home and the stair case leading to some of Stiles' room was all that was left in the ashes that scattered the ground. A quick flash of pain clawed its way into Derek’s heart as memories flooded through him. He knew how damaging a fire could really be, knew what it was like to lose a home. Derek wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, let alone Stiles. Opening the door to his car, Derek stepped out and walked over to the house. The yellow caution tape felt familiar under his fingertips as he lifted and ducked beneath it to get closer. Not much was going to be salvageable. He took a walk around the perimeter of the house trying to assess the damage but when he got around to the back, Derek froze.

The thing is, being a were was kind of learning as you go along. It came easy after a while, but situations like this, Derek wasn’t good at. Stiles was kneeling on the ground, his knees buried into the ashes beneath his feet as he looked up at his home. Derek wanted to say something to console him, but he knew that nothing anyone could say would help in this type of situation. So he did the only thing he could think of. Slow careful steps made their way over to Stiles and then reached a hand out, resting it gently on his shoulder. Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, not speaking a word and Derek got chills just thinking how unnatural it is to see him this quiet. Despite himself, his thoughts rocketed back to the night with Boyd, how the simplest touch from Stiles grounded him. He hoped this would do the same and squeezed his shoulder once. Stiles’ eyes opened up slowly as he turned his head and then looked up at him.

“Derek…”  His name in the form of a broken cry on Stiles’ lips was the last thing he’d ever wanted to hear.

“I know,” he replies simply as he moves to help him off of the tainted ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking I should continue this, yes? Also, find me on tumblr! alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com


	2. Summertime Sadness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something had to be salvageable in that house, and Derek was going to find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your comments/kudos. Your feedback means the world to me.<3

Derek hadn’t asked where Stiles and his father were staying. As a matter of a fact, he didn’t say anything as he helped Stiles into the Camaro and began his drive over to the loft. The last words either of them said was about twenty minutes ago when Stiles kept muttering something about a box and some jewelry while Derek pulled him away from the home. _I’ll find it_ , Derek makes a mental note to look through the house and see if there’s anything salvageable.

After a few minutes, they arrived at Derek’s loft at the outskirts of town. He moved to help Stiles through the door and up the spiral staircase to his room. It was dark, only a few shadows of light cascading through an opening in one of the smaller windows' blinds. Derek deposited Stiles onto the bed and received no protest. _He must really be out of it_.

Stiles lay back in the bed and Derek pulled the covers up over him. Turning to walk away, Stiles reached out to grab his hand. See Derek, he wasn’t a monster; wasn’t heartless. There was no way he would leave Stiles if he asked him not to. So he stayed there, seated at the edge of the bed; wrist wrapped tightly in Stiles’ shaking fingers as he drifted off to sleep. Once he was sure Stiles was out, Derek swiftly removed himself from his grip and quietly made his way out of the loft.

Derek’s mind was made up as he climbed into the Camaro and heard the engine purr to life. Driving over to the Stilinski home was going to happen, it had to. Fires weren’t foreign to Derek. They sent his mind reeling in the worst of directions. Memories of _her_ and his family flooded his mind but he quickly pushed his thoughts aside as he made the drive back to the Stilinski home. Derek knew what it was like to lose someone or lose a home, having anything as a reminder of them and what they were to you could help in so many ways. Before long he was pulling up to the driveway. With determination in his eyes, he pushed past what was left of the door and let himself in.

It was difficult, to say the least, having to push aside his own memories when he first walked in. Charred walls and burnt surroundings were haunting him but he shook it off and began to look around. The picture frames that survived were at least halfway burnt save for one. It was a photo of Stiles’ mother in the delivery room, the Sheriff standing beside her bed and Stiles wrapped tightly in her arms _. She was beautiful,_ Derek thinks and he can’t help but notice just how much Stiles looks like her. Carefully, he takes the photo out of the frame and keeps sifting through the rooms.

The house is pretty damaged except for a few knick knacks he’s found here and there. There was a box he stumbled upon in the living room that he’s using to put whatever he finds inside. Making his way over to the Sheriff's room, he can’t help but feel like he shouldn't be here, but Derek takes the few necessary steps and walks in anyway. He’s making his way through some of the dresser drawers when he finds a metal box. Opening it slowly, he finds a ring. It’s not too flashy, more elegant and simple than anything else and there’s a note inside addressed to Stiles’ dad. He assumes it’s from Mrs. Stilinski and tucks these into the box he had as well. Maybe that was the box that Stiles was talking about? Stiles’ room is the last to check so he decides to check just in case.

Derek has been in this room more than a few times. Threw Stiles up against the wall, climbed through that charred window, sat in that desk chair the time Stiles couldn’t sleep. It was more than sad to see it this way but he focused on what he came here to do instead. The younger man’s ‘evidence board’ was completely trashed, mostly everything in his room destroyed. The nightstand near the window didn’t look too bad but when he opened the drawer, Derek didn’t find much but a pair of keys. He tried for the closet next since it seemed the fire was put out before it got much of what was inside. Tossing out a pile of clothes and a bunch of old shoes, something caught Derek’s eye on the top shelf. It was a safe, pretty small and easy to crack but he wouldn’t even need to try since the corner was practically melted off. After prying it open he saw what looked like a wooden music box and dusted it off.

Derek opened it, curiosity getting the best of him, making him want to hear the melody. He only heard a few beats before recognition of the song washed over him. It sounded so beautiful until the song started to mess up and he realized how broken it was. This was definitely the box Stiles was talking about. It was an intricate vintage design, not like every other ballerina one you’d see in every store. Derek rolled his eyes. People just didn’t know the beauty of classics. It was designed as a cabinet with little drawers that can be opened up for storage, hidden behind a metal mesh grill.

On the bottom was an engraving that could barely be seen by the human eye anymore but Derek could see it clearly with his eyes.  It had Derek feeling like he was intruding on something that he shouldn’t have seen and it read, ‘To my Darling, you are the music of my life, the song to every step and the beat to every breath. Always, John Stilinski.’ The wind up music box played the softest tune that was putting even the most stressed of men to rest when you opened the bottom drawer. He’d have to get it fixed now, he was determined.

The box was packed up and ready to go and Derek carefully made his way down the steps that were falling apart beneath his feet. The drive back was a slow one, Derek wondering just how his life has come to be point of having to comfort teenagers but when it came to Stiles, he couldn’t quite mind it. When he arrived back at the loft, he tucked the music box into his glove compartment. He wasn’t going to give that to him until he got it fixed. It’d be a nice surprise, he thinks. Stiles is sitting up in bed, his back leaning against the head board as he holds tight a mug of coffee in his hands. His hair is disheveled and the bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway to his lack of sleep.

“Hey,” and to Derek’s ears, Stiles sounds wrecked.

“How’d you sleep?” Derek asks, taking a few more steps into the room.

“Fine. Thank you,” Derek shakes his head at that. There’s no need for Stiles to thank him. He’s pack and he will be taken care of, that’s all. Stiles seems to know what he’s thinking because he moves on, eyes trailing to the box in Derek’s hands. “What’s that?”

“I went back to your house, this is all I could really get out of it,” Derek tells him as he hands over the box. Stiles takes it with open arms and if Derek notices the way his heart is hammering in his chest or  how his eyes start to well with tears that he quickly brushes away, he doesn’t mention it. Privacy is a great thing to have so Derek walks away. He lets him look through the box and before he takes the final steps to walk out of the bedroom door, he sees Stiles rubbing his thumb back and forth on the picture of his mother. All Derek wants; all his _wolf_ wants to do is wrap him in his arms, comfort him, make it better but he chooses to give him space instead. He hears Stiles’ whispered ‘I miss you’  to his mother as he looks at the photo and then a ‘thank you’ which he knows is for himself as he turns to leave the room. _It’ll get better_ , he tells himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The melody: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxM45dOrb10  
> The music box: http://alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com/post/57219501204/it-was-an-intricate-vintage-design-not-like-every  
> My tumblr: alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com
> 
> Next chapter is almost done and I wanted a slow build but I couldn't help myself, things get heated. Dundundun.


	3. Togetherness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> to·geth·er·ness [noun] 1. the state of being close to another person or other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever! I was so caught up with making sure the Teen Wolf streams were running smoothly, there was just no time. Hope you all enjoy this chapter.

The rain was pouring outside, every drop making its own unique splash onto the ground. With every fall of the rain, the sounds of thunder echoed in Stiles’ ears. Lightning was causing the light to dance around the room as he grumbled and rolled over. Stiles was… exhausted. Yeah, let’s go with that. His home was destroyed, everything he once knew torn away from him in a matter of minutes. The warm blanket lay covering him and he didn’t want to ever move. Why couldn’t this blanket just wrap him up and hide him from the world forever?

He hadn’t gotten much sleep at Melissa’s home the night of the fire but last night he manage to get an hour or two in. Derek’s bed was so comfortable it was impossible not to. Speaking of Derek, Stiles should probably thank him. He never thought he’d see these pictures again and that ring? His father is going to be so happy. Leave it to Derek Hale to walk into a taped off hazard. This wasn’t the side Stiles was used to. Derek was almost always stoic and brooding.

Pushing his way out of bed, Stiles yawned as he got a good stretch in. The cabinet near the door held his cell phone and keys so he walked over to fish them out of the drawer. Dialing his father’s number, he scratched absently at the exposed skin of his stomach as the phone rang.

“Stiles, where are you? Are you alright?” The worried tone his father’s voice took reminded him that he didn’t say where he had escaped to earlier.

“Yeah, Dad. Sorry, I’m at Derek’s. Kinda fell asleep,” Stiles tells him hesitantly.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight? Melissa called, said she was working on it all day,” Sheriff continued after a pause, “It’s at 6, don’t be late.” Stiles was nodding before he realized his father couldn’t see him. “Yeah, totally. I’ll be there.” There was no point in trying to sound okay, his father knows him inside and out.  It was enough of a miracle that he didn’t freak out at the Derek thing. Even with knowing about the wolves, his father was still a bit iffy about Derek. The Sheriff was apparently satisfied with his answer because he hung up a moment after that.

Rummaging through the rest of the drawers in the cabinet, Stiles finds a pair of jeans and a shirt he thinks Derek wouldn’t mind him stealing. Heading into the bathroom, Stiles turns on the water so it can get hot as he strips off his clothes. The steam is beginning to fill the bathroom as he steps in. The water is close to scalding and oh yeah, he should’ve turned on the cold water too. He doesn’t touch it now, though; just lets the almost unbearably hot water take over him.

Water is his favorite element, he thinks as he closes his eyes under the stream. Waterfalls, oceans, rivers, all sharing in this powerful substance and he lets it overtake him; loses himself in it to forget his thoughts. He’s slumped against the shower wall for what seems like forever when the water shuts off. Blinking open his eyes feels painful, but the presence of Derek makes him jump.

“Dude, I’m totally naked,” Stiles gestures up and down his body.

“You’ve been in here for an hour and forty five minutes,” Derek tells him as he starts pulling him out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist.

“It was barely twenty minutes,” Stiles retorts.

“No Stiles, it wasn’t.” Derek grabs hold of his wrist again and pulls him towards the bedroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bed. Stiles is about to ask where he’s going as he walks away from him but he comes back with a little first aid kit before he can.

“You ruined your bandages,” Derek tells him as he gets on his knees in front of him and points to his forearm.

“Wow, that actually really hurts,” and why didn’t Stiles realize how much it hurt before he pointed that out. Derek is pulling off the old bandages and Stiles is doing his level best not to scream. The whining though? That’s a thing that happens. He also can’t help the hiss that escapes him when Derek puts on the burn cream and rewraps his arm.

“Thanks,” Stiles tells him and Derek just shakes his head. This guy never thinks it’s necessary but Stiles does have manners.

“Hungry?” Derek asks him as he stands.

“Starving actually, but Dad says I should be at Melissa’s for dinner at 6,” Stiles loves Melissa, truly, he does. But as stupid as it sounds right now, he doesn’t really want to be near any type of mother figure. Doesn’t want to have her cook for them, take care of them and make them feel better. He just kind of wants to be miserable right now, he’s okay with that for a bit. “Do you wanna come?” Stiles adds when Derek looks a bit off.

“No, I’ve actually gotta run. I need to pick something up in about an hour,” Derek tells him.

“What are you getting?” Stiles asks because well, it’s _Stiles_. Needing to know everything is his thing.

“Just uh,” Derek is scrambling for words and why is he stuttering? “A new jacket, ruined the old one.” Only took him about twenty seconds to come up with _that_ lie. He squints his eyes at Derek, and watching him fidget under the scrutiny is fantastic. Stiles would love to stay and pull the truth out of him but to be honest he’s still tired and he just realized it wasn’t as early as he had originally thought. There’s about two hours left before the dinner so he needs to dry off and get ready. “Okay,” Stiles says then. “I better get dressed,” and then holds the towel so it won’t fall as he moves to get the clothes from the bathroom.

Derek is gone when he comes back so he just shrugs and gets ready. Walking to the McCall house would normally suck from here but Stiles figures he needs the walk and at least it isn't raining anymore. He thinks about a lot of things… his mother, the only home he has ever known and his father’s face when he saw him after the fire. And then something strange happens and he thinks of Derek and shit, this must be how he felt when he lost his home only it was much, much worse. Because he didn’t just lose a roof or a house, some things he kept in his room, he lost people. He lost a lot of people actually, and wow. This train of thought sends his mind into work double time because Derek went into another burned home to help find something for him. He wasn’t asked, didn’t need to be told, just put himself in that position so that he can help. It put a few things in perspective for him.

Stiles was overwhelmed. It wasn’t too often that someone would do something like that for you, you know? Stiles’ hands moved to his front pockets as he walked, the left wrapping tightly around the ring box, the other laying on top of his mother’s photo. Stiles thought of other things, how he should probably call Scott, or how he should schedule a meeting with everyone else. It wasn’t right for him to let them worry when he was alright, that’s considering they knew. Everyone was so busy over the summer, doing their own thing. He thought of how the leaves sounded, crunching lightly underneath his sneakers with every step he took. Then he thought of the clothes he was wearing and how they fit just right. It was a silly thought, because they were a bit loose but, they just _felt_ right.

Before he knew it he was in front of the McCall home and his father was sitting on the front steps. He was in deep thought, or so it looked and then he cleared his throat.

“Hey, Dad,” Stiles greeted as he took the last few necessary steps to meet his father who was now moving to stand up.

“Stiles,” His father said as he wrapped his arms tightly around him for a brief hug. The Sheriff moves to turn around so they can walk into the house, one arm still around Stiles’ shoulder but he stops him.

“Wait, I wanted to give you something,” Stiles pulls away from him then, digging out the box from his pocket. His father turns to face him with a look of confusion until he sees the box and Stiles… well he wants to cry because those are tears forming in his father’s eyes.

“How did you get this?” His father asks, reaching to take it and holding it tightly in his hands.

“Derek,” Stiles says, absently rubbing at the back of his neck. “He found this too,” he says as he reaches for his other pocket, taking out the photo of his mother and handing it to his dad.

 “How did he-“ Sheriff starts but Stiles just shrugs.

“It’s Derek,” and he’s trying hard not to get too emotional but this is his father and they’re talking about Stiles' mother which they don’t do and… “I love you, Dad.” Stiles says then because, well he does.

“I love you too, son.” With that the Sheriff is wrapping his hands around him and Stiles is hugging back so tightly he thinks he might hurt him. “You’re a good kid,” his father continues. “Your mother would be so proud of you.” And that is when Stiles finally lets the tears fall and holds on tighter. They stay that way for a few moments until they hear the front door open and pull apart.

“Dinner’s ready,” Melissa calls from the top of the steps and they both wipe at their faces and make their way inside. It’s amazing how that moment with his father instantly made him feel better but he knows he needs to thank Derek because it wouldn’t have happened without him. Dinner is delicious and Stiles isn’t as bitter about it as he had originally thought. Melissa really is a wonderful person, and Stiles has always known that but tonight had reaffirmed his opinion.

They watch some TV after and have a few laughs, it’s a sense of togetherness he hadn’t known he needed. His father and Melissa are telling stories of him and Scott being trouble makers as kids and then making fun of how clumsy they were. They end up calling Scott, have him on speaker as they explain to him everything that happened. He insists on coming home after the weekend but they all refuse. There’s only a week or two left in the summer anyway, no reason he shouldn’t enjoy it. The entire night is great but now that it’s coming to an end, Stiles realizes just how much he would rather sleep at Derek’s.

“I’m gonna head out,” Stiles says as he stands from his seat at the couch.

“Where you headed, son?” The Sheriff asks as he takes a sip of the coffee Melissa made.

“Derek’s,” Stiles says easily and he doesn’t really want to explain how he feels more comfortable there and he knows his father wants to ask but he surprisingly doesn’t push.

“Want me to drop you off? It’s getting late,” his father asks him, but Stiles quickly shakes his head.

“Nah, I can use the walk,” Stiles says and then thanks Melissa for dinner as she gives him a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. The night air is cold and crisp and Stiles has to admit how much he loves it. It might not be too cold out for a summer night but his face is turning shades of red, cheeks flushed and he can’t complain. By the time he reaches Derek’s loft, he’s shivering and knocks on the door. It doesn’t take long for him to answer, his eyes a shade of blue as he opens the door.

“Stiles?” Derek is worried, obviously. Stiles didn’t even think to call, _shit_.

“Hey. I uh, I was wondering if I can stay the night?” Stiles asks nervously, hand rubbing at the back of his neck for the umpteenth time that night. He’s expecting a slammed door in his face, at the very least an ‘are you kidding me’ but what he gets instead is Derek’s eyes returning to their normal shade and stepping aside to let him in. They had gotten closer over the summer, very much so. Working together to keep in touch when Scott and Derek had their little rift it was nice and it made them sort of a team.  When he thinks about it, Derek is the one he feels most comfortable with. So he moves past him, walking inside and then making his way up the stairs. Derek is behind him with every step and Stiles knows. They walk together in silence and then fall into the bed like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

“Thank you,” Stiles mumbles from where he’s plastered face first into the mattress.

“You should stop doing that,” Derek says from his side, on his back looking up at the ceiling. Stiles shakes his head then scoots over because well, he really feels like he wants to. Derek seems to get the hint that maybe Stiles just really needs someone right now and turns on this side, draping an arm over his waist.

“Thank-“ Stiles starts but then Derek is shoving a pillow into his face and groaning. He moves the pillow off himself then hits Derek in the face with it. They both laugh until they’re tired and start to drift off to sleep. Absently, Stiles feels Derek’s hand tighten around his waist pulling him closer and well, if Stiles leans into him and buries his face in Derek’s chest as they lie facing each other, he’s entitled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one should be up soon. Let me know what you think! Also, sorry for the feels but not really. Stilinski family kills me and welp, Derek is a sweetheart. You can't convince me otherwise.  
> My Tumblr: alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com  
> Let's be tweeps: twitter.com/amehmancini


	4. Behind Blue Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We always see our worst selves. Our most vulnerable selves. We need someone else to get close enough to tell us we’re wrong. Someone we trust.” ― David Levithan, Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List

They wake up that way, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. Derek pulls away as stealthily as is manageable when Stiles is nestled flush against him. It’s difficult for him to move; especially when Stiles looks so peaceful, making content little noises in his sleep. It’s probably the best night’s rest he’s gotten in the past two days and Derek would hate to wake him. This situation with Stiles has come from left field and Derek has no idea how to deal with it. He does know however, that he needs to go pick up that music box before Stiles wakes up. That’s how he ends up sneaking out of the loft and thanking God for the way his engine comes to life quietly, with a barely audible purr.

It’s about 7 am; the sun is still rising and covering the town in an orange glow so the drive downtown is a peaceful one. Most people are still at home, asleep in their beds and Derek likes it best like this. He pulls up in front of the repair shop, parking his car and heading inside. The shop has done an incredible job, leaving every little detail the way that it was and only fixing the melody. The old man running the place seems nice enough so Derek always tips a bit extra. After paying, he thanks the man and as he’s walking out of the shop, he eyes the clothing store across the street.

All of the clothes in the window are immature, stupid little graphic tee’s and ridiculously oversized hoodies. He’s got his hand on the car door, ready to open it when the shirt at the end of the department store window catches his eye. It’s like it was yesterday when Stiles had worn it, out gallivanting in the fucking woods with Scott. Derek shakes his head at the, ‘I Support Single Moms’ ironed onto the front of the shirt. _Of course this is where Stiles shops_. And that’s the exact moment it occurs to him… All of Stiles’ clothes were ruined which is why is he was in Derek’s when he came back the other night. Speaking of, seeing Stiles in his clothes did something to him.

It’s probably just close to the full moon, when he thinks about it. That’s probably what’s sending his mind adrift but he can’t stop picturing how perfectly the pants had seemed to hug every slight curve of Stiles’ lean body. The shirt was a bit big on him, v-neck hanging loosely, exposing his clavicle and something else he wondered, when did Stiles form those muscles? If the clothes weren’t bad enough, the scent was an even worse situation. Stiles had smelled like he _bathed_ in him when he was wearing his clothes; scents mixing together perfectly. If he’s being honest, Derek can say he’s always been attracted to Stiles. There’s always been something there, especially lately.

It seemed to escalate from having to save each other to wanting, _needing_ to. It was probably force of habit if he’s speaking rationally but when is he ever really rational? They became even closer during Derek and Scott’s rift. Stiles had no choice but to the communication between the two wolves. He’s smart, incredibly so but he’s stubborn; headstrong. And why was he standing there thinking about Stiles in the middle of a parking lot like a crazy person?

Derek steps away from his car, walks across the street and into a store that he never thought he would step into. The shop is empty because of the early hour, save for a girl at the counter eyeing him like he was dinner. With a roll of his eyes, Derek started to look around. He grabbed one of every obnoxious shirt he could find in Stiles’ size that he thought he would like. This place was shockingly expensive but it’s not like Derek minded. He was more than well off and didn’t mind helping out where he could. Throwing in some pairs of jeans, a few of those hats Stiles wore followed and then he moved over to the register. It took no more than 15 minutes to get everything together.

The girl didn’t say a word to him after her initial ‘good morning’ in what she probably thought was a sexy tone. To be honest, things like that didn’t do anything for him. She continued to ring him up quietly with a few sideways glances here and there. Derek kept his attention to the counter, all the piercings and belts that were hanging on the sides. A certain belt catches his attention so he puts it on the counter just as she’s finishing up. It costs him a few hundred dollars but he couldn’t care less. He packs up the bags into the Camaro and calls it a day.

The drive back is calming, then again, being in his car always is. He knows he shouldn’t, but he listens in as he pulls up to the loft. The only sounds he can hear are the ticking of the clock hanging in the kitchen, the soft drop of the faucet he hasn’t yet fixed and Stiles’ steady heartbeat. _Still asleep then_ , Derek thinks as he cuts off the engine, grabs the bags and makes his way to his bedroom as quietly as he can manage. Stiles stirs in his sleep at the rustling of the bags. The bags are heavy in his arms, roughly a dozen on each arm. Moving to set them down on the chest at the foot of the bed, he freezes when he hears his name. “Derek?”

-xxx-

The rays of sun signaling a new day are shining brightly through the window, forcing Stiles out of his slumber. He stirs in his sleep, a yawn escaping him, stretching cat like as he does. Curling back up, he tries to get comfortable again and fall back to sleep. He hears the front door open, knows Derek is home but can’t will himself to move just yet. It’s when he hears the rustling of bags at the foot of the bed when he finally opens his eyes.

“Derek?” he asks, cause _hi_ , you just ruined my beautiful morning sleep. The moment Derek tenses is evident even to Stiles’ merely human eyes. He turns slowly to face him, a sheepish look plastered on his face that Stiles cannot ever recall seeing before.

“These are for you,” he says simply and what? Gifts? Plural? Because there’s at least ten bags that Stiles can see from here and they are all from-yep, that’s where he shops. This is proving to be the best day ever and Stiles hasn’t even been awake for more than five minutes. He’s excited, everything he had was gone and now Derek- that’s when Stiles’ mind screeches to a halt. There was a moment, a brief one, when Stiles wanted to jump up and hug Derek; say thank you but that was before Stiles’ brain started building these colossal walls. So what, this is Derek _pitying_ him? He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, he’s a Stilinski and he’ll be fine. As a matter of a fact, he doesn’t need to be here and he definitely doesn’t need anyone to look at him the way Derek is looking at him right now. Like Stiles is some charity case, and Derek can probably sense the moment Stiles switches because his face changes too. Stiles flies out of bed. There’s no other word for it because he gets up so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.

“Thanks but no thanks,” he tells Derek as he quickly slips on his shoes. After putting them on, he pushes past Derek as he walks out and doesn’t even think twice about it. The sound of shattered glass that comes from the room he just left doesn’t even make him flinch as he rounds the stairs and walks out of the house. He doesn’t want anyone’s pity. Didn’t need it when his mother passed and he doesn’t need it now.

-xxx-

Derek is seeing red, which is a lot to say since the recent change events turned him back to his beta forms ice cold blue. How can he be so stupid? Of course Stiles would get offended. But then again he had to have seen that Derek was trying. That counted didn’t it? This is why he likes to keep his distance; he isn’t good at this kind of thing. _I was trying to help_ , he thinks as he slams his hand through the mirror hanging on the wall beside him.

The shards of glass are coated with the blood seeping from his knuckles which have already begun to heal. Reflections are a powerful thing, he notices as he looks at himself in a ragged piece, eyes piercing blue and wonders what Stiles saw last night in them. He was curious to see if people actually cared what was behind these blue eyes, that he was more than just some abomination. Derek wonders briefly how he could have allowed himself to be that way with Stiles yesterday, to pull him close and fall asleep holding him closely. Thinking about how he let his guard down, the thought scares him how easily that happens with Stiles. It doesn’t take much for his walls to come plummeting down.

Taking a few deep breaths, he calms himself down and lets the blue bleed out of his eyes so they’re back to their normal state. Cleaning up the broken glass takes most of his time but it’s a good distraction. He misses a few pieces and the biggest one still hanging by a screw on the wall but he figures it can wait. It’s a difficult next few days, silence takes over the loft that was once filled with awkward laughter. Derek places a call in to Scott, finds out he’ll be home in a few weeks, checks up on the other betas that all seem to be doing fine. None of them bring up Stiles and he can’t bring himself to ask.

The bags stay at the end of the bed, Derek not wanting to touch them and so they sit there being a constant reminder of something he royally fucked up. He gets in the elevator and takes it up to the roof. It’s spacious up here, perfect place to just lay back and think. There’s already a blanket on a hammock Isaac had put up before heading out to visit some family over in Florida. Derek opts for the floor instead, the cold concrete causes a shiver to run through him. He’s up there for a while, watching the sky as clouds pass. Derek remembers being little, calling out shapes from the backyard to his mother who was doing her gardening. Hours seem to pass as the sun quickly makes its way out of the sky. The moon is a crescent curve, illuminating the night sky shortly after.

He’s diverted by the universe, the beauty of the world such an incredible distraction that he didn’t hear the footsteps until Stiles was standing right behind him. His scent hits him like a freight train but it’s all wrong. Instead of its usual happiness, a touch of arousal and overall curiosity, Derek senses bitterness, outrage, even some hurt. He turns his head and arches an eyebrow at the other man who rolls his eyes and lies down beside him.

“Watching the stars, Hale?” Of course Stiles has to be a little shit, even now.

“It’s calming,” Derek replies.

“So is reading a book but here we are,” Stiles says then. Derek is silent for a while because he knows this small talk can go on endlessly with Stiles.

“I’m sorry,” they both say finally. Both heads turn to face each other, and then Derek sits up, looking down at Stiles.

“Stiles you have nothing to apologize for,” he starts, “I didn’t want to offend you or anything, I just wanted to help,” Derek feels exhausted. He doesn’t want to argue.

“I get that I just don’t want you to _pity_ me,” Stiles says the word like he’s disgusted and Derek scrunches his brows in confusion.

“Pity you? Stiles I would never pity you, I just wanted to help,” And now he feels like a broken record.

“I get that now but why?” Derek pulls Stiles by his hand so that he’s sitting up with him, facing each other now.

“Because, Stiles, it’s you,” Derek explains as if he’s talking to a child. If Stiles doesn’t understand by now that Derek has more feelings for him than he probably should well then, it’s a lost cause.

“It’s me? What kind of cryptic, ambiguous shit is tha-“ Stiles could ramble on forever so Derek decides to just shut him up. His hand reaches up to cup the side of Stiles’ face and then he’s kissing him, just a soft brush of the lips. It seems to do the trick because Stiles is stunned into silence. Derek wants to pull away to really get a good look at his face but instead, he just presses his forehead to Stiles’ and breathes.

“It’s always been you,” Derek says then because if he’s honest with himself, actually honest, then he knows Stiles has always been different. Stiles was the only one Derek had let close enough to him; the only one to tell him when he was wrong and the only one constant in his life that he actually trusted. Everything that they have been through, all of it has just made that undeniable connection stronger and it’s about time they stopped ignoring it.

“Me?” Stiles questions then and Derek can hear his heartbeat hammering a million beats a minute now.

“You,” he tells him and presses his lips to his once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cry all my Derek creys. Bare with me because the smut cometh. Find me on tumblr: alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com Liking this fic? Let me know. :) Thank you for reading!


	5. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally gives Stiles the box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not stop listening to 'Fix You' by Coldplay as I wrote this chapter. I was torn between the title this chapter has and 'Fix You'. You'll see why. Also, I'm adamant that if there was a song playing as they had sex, that would be it. If you forgot what the box looks/sounds like, I'll add the links at the end. Thank you so much for all the comments/kudos. You're all amazing.

The world freezes around them. Time stops and everything around him is so perfectly _Derek_. Stiles is… well, he’s in shock because this isn’t him kissing Derek, it’s Derek kissing _him_. Stiles knew the bond they had, knew they were each other’s ‘emotional tethers’ but he didn’t think in a million years that someone like Derek would like him too. The chilly night air is a crisp cool but that can’t be to blame for his hairs rising on end. Sounds are engulfing him, the quick hummingbird heartbeat in his chest, Derek’s heavy breathing as his forehead is pressed to his own once more and Stiles needs a moment to take it all in. Shaking hands reach out to fist into Derek’s shirt. Just because he needs a second to process everything, doesn’t mean he wants to let him go, ever.

“So this whole time, you-” Stiles is panting, replaying everything between them, sees it all in a different light. What he took as Derek being unfair for not involving him sometimes was really him trying to protect Stiles. The long looks, tiny little stolen glances where Stiles’ mind was worshipping the Gods for Derek and had been caught looking, he thought Derek had been upset. The feeling of Derek nodding against him sent a million more thoughts rushing through him. “And you never thought to tell me?” Stiles wants to scream because think of all of the wasted time but then Derek pulls back, eyes trained on his.

“You’re still too young,” Derek says.

“I’m seventeen,” Stiles tells him with a roll of his eyes. Thinking better of the fact, he decides not to point out that’s only two more weeks until his eighteenth birthday; it’ll only make him look childish. Against his better judgment, he pulls away too, dropping himself down to lay back on the roof. Looking up at the sky, panting heavily, he begins to laugh. Not needing to see Derek’s face to know he’s probably looking at him confusedly, Stiles elaborates. “Dude you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“I could probably say the same,” Derek says then. That catches Stiles off guard. He turns his head from the sky to the man sitting up beside him and he stops laughing. A small shy smile takes over his face as his eyes lock with Derek’s and there’s something in that look that maybe he can place now. He doesn’t love him yet, likes him, so fucking much and has for a while but he just knows that he can learn to love him. At this rate, Stiles knows it won’t take long. Reaching a hand out, he fists a hand in Derek’s shirt and pulls him down for a kiss. It’s sloppy, as any awkwardly positioned kiss should be but he doesn’t care.

“Hold that thought,” he feels a tug in the fabric wrapped between his fingers and realizes Derek is trying to get up.

“Whyyy” Stiles drawls out. The moment is actually kind of perfect and now this giant grumpy wolf is ruining it.

“Just give me a sec, I’ll be right back.” And with that, Derek is up and heading off to do whatever it is he wants to do. Stiles drums his fingers on the concrete impatiently at his sides as he’s lying down. It’s suddenly a lot chillier without Derek at his side. The stars in the night sky are beautiful, can be seen so clearly tonight. He looks for the brightest one and smiles, makes a wish and says a little prayer for his mother. Ever since he was a kid, his father played the Lion King card and said that those who pass would always watch over us in the stars. It was silly really, but he couldn’t help finding it comforting. Looking around now, he sees the hammock, laughs at how Derek probably hates it. There’s no way that was his doing. _Isaac,_ Stiles says as he shakes his head and laughs.

“What’s so funny?” Stiles does _not_ jump, shut up.

“Certainly not the heart attack you just gave me,” Stiles grumbles. Sitting up, curiosity gets the best of him. “Where’d you go?” he asks as Derek sits down, mocks his position and sits cross legged across from him. He has one hand behind his back and Stiles is seriously not someone who has patience.

“I went,” Derek starts as he scoots closer, their knees bumping, “to get you this” he continues as he finally pulls his hand out from behind his back. If Stiles’ heart wasn’t already hammering in his chest from Derek’s little scare, it would be now. Tears start to well in his eyes and he can’t hold back the little choke as his body tries to get the best of him and break down.

“Where did you-“ Stiles starts but can’t even finish the question, voice betraying him. There are too many emotions running through him as he reaches a shaking hand out and takes his mothers music box from Derek’s hands.

“I found it the other night, I didn’t give it to you then because,” Derek’s hands are reaching for the box but Stiles are wrapped tightly around it. Derek just gestures to the back then, pointing at the wind up.

“That doesn’t work,” Stiles tells him but Derek is shaking his head.

“That’s what I meant, it’s fixed now,” And Stiles is winding it up before Derek even says the last word. The melody begins to play and there’s no holding back the tears that are escaping him. Hands move to open the little drawers, remembering all the little things his mother used to put in here. The favorite pair of earrings she never left home without, the small folded up note that Dad once left her on the fridge one morning saying he loved her, the times he’d hear it playing from their bedroom before he went to bed. Memories of his mother's face, her smile, the wholehearted laughs makes him smile despite the tears.

“Thank you,” he says to Derek, not looking up from the box in his hands. The song has ended so he winds it up again and again, lets it flow. Derek’s hand is reaching out, cupping his face and brushing away the tears that are staining his cheeks. He looks up then, the smile starts to fade from his face and it’s replaced with something else entirely. Stiles is so overcome with emotion, so much adoration for this man that has been here the entire time. Its instinct, the way they find each other’s lips, a soft brush of the lips. It means so much, and it does a lot to calm Stiles down. There’s a brief moment where he thinks he should stop being so emotional, before he scares Derek away, but he sees just as much emotion in his eyes when they pull away. That’s when it occurs to him, he knows what it’s like to lose a mother. They’ve lost people and it’s just one more thing that they can help each other through, that they share.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says then, and Stiles nods, responds with a, “me too.” It’s a raw moment, very honest and true. Stiles began to realize that this closeness he had with Derek, he’d choose over the solitude of having time to himself anytime. Looking back at the years, Stiles realizes Derek didn’t just lose a mother, but a father, siblings, a _family_. He sees how Derek’s past relationships were, how much he has lost and it makes him ache. Stiles wants to help, wants them to help fix each other.

“You’ve been lonely too long,” Stiles mutters, accidentally and Derek surprises him by nodding. “Me too,” they’re both nodding and they should probably feel stupid just sitting there nodding at each other but there’s a sense of understanding and Stiles just has this urge to _fix_. And he’s grateful, he’s so fucking grateful.

“Let’s go,” Stiles says as he gets up, music box in one hand, the other reached out towards Derek. He takes his hand and Stiles waits until he stands then moves towards the elevator. Silence creeps around them on the elevator and for once, Stiles doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence, just squeezes the hand in his once. They finally get down to the loft and Stiles places the music box on the little table by the door once inside. Moving over to the center of the loft by the bed, he turns so the back of Derek’s knees are hitting the bed and shoves him lightly so he falls back.

“Stiles, what are you-“ Derek starts as he lays down properly in the bed, head on the pillow, eyes trained on his. Stiles pulls off Derek’s boots for him, kicks off his own shoes, all the while his eyes are locked with Derek. Climbing up on top of the bed, he crawls on top of Derek until their faces meet and he’s kissing him, long and slow. Stiles talks, he talks so damn much but right now he can’t. He’s hoping Derek can feel every word, every feeling behind each kiss. Right now there is so much emotion behind every one that if he even tried to speak, he would break. While on the matter of things that could break, Stiles is taking his time; treating Derek like he’s fragile. He’s determined to fix him, healing with every press of his lips.

Stiles is breaking the kiss, lips finding Derek’s neck. He places one open mouthed kiss there, tongue sneaking out as he does. Derek makes some sort of a sound, a mixture between a whine and a whimper and Stiles smiles softly at him as he sits up, straddling him.

-xxx-

Stiles’ eyes meet his as he sits above him, knee on either side of Derek. There’s so much emotion in them, so many words, so much meaning that Derek feels like he’s choking with it himself. Stiles is pushing up on his shirt, so he sits up as best he can with the weight on his abdomen so he can pull off his t-shirt. They do the same with Stiles’, before he’s sliding down Derek’s legs. This would be a good point in time for Derek to learn how to breathe again but he can’t quite focus when Stiles is unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off. Derek is hard, painfully so but he won’t rush this. They don’t comment on the fact that Derek went commando today, he was without a care this morning.

The scent of Stiles’ arousal sparks up another level or two as he takes him in and it’s making Derek ache not to reach out and just take him. Then again, this is more, so much more. Stiles is pushing out of the remainder of his clothes and Derek’s breath catches in his throat as he does. Stiles has gotten so much more defined, lacrosse has done him good. He’s beautiful, so fucking beautiful. Finally done undressing, Stiles makes his way back on top of him and the hiss he lets out as their dicks brush was uncontrollable. They’re a mess of kisses again in no time and this time it’s heated, passion behind every press of lips.

Stiles pulls away again, kissing down his throat. Derek thinks for all the obsessions he himself has, Stiles might have more of a neck fetish. He can’t help the growl that escapes him and Stiles must feel it because he bites down shortly after. It’s a small nip, but it makes the wolf in Derek want to howl. His head tilts for Stiles, giving him better access and he knows that Stiles is aware of what is means, this small submission. He’s trusting him, giving him the reigns, making himself vulnerable and he all but fucking mewls when Stiles grinds his hips down to brush their dicks together.  It was quick, because then he’s kissing down Derek’s chest, licking every inch of him, peppering small kisses everywhere that he can. It’s intense, all of his senses tuning into Stiles who is radiating so many levels of emotion and want. The insane part is how it’s all for him, every last bit of it. He’s humbled, feels undeserving of so much _good_. But Stiles, he’s changing this in him, changing so much in the way he thinks about himself. No one has ever cared as much as he does.

“Stiles,” Derek warns as he realizes Stiles has slithered his way down between his legs, lips pressed to his inner thigh. Stiles bites down once, before shifting his attention to his dick. Before Derek has a chance to catch his breath over the last show, Stiles is licking a strip up from base to tip. The world around Derek is crashing as he focuses his everything on Stiles and keeps his control at bay. There’s a tongue swirling around the head of his cock and he moans loudly, too caught up to care. Stiles is quick, swift, determined. He knows exactly what he’s doing and how to do it because Derek barely has enough time to react before he’s driving him crazy all over again. Who knew he was that perfectly skilled with those lips? Those damn lips that Derek has always been caught looking at.

“Mmmm,” Stiles is moaning around him, taking the length of him into his mouth and Derek is going to explode soon. He doesn’t seem to have any type of gag reflex as he’s hollowing his cheeks around him, sucking him down with fervor. Stiles is practically making love to his dick and Derek is going to have to do something soon. There’s a chill as Stiles pulls off with a pop. Derek lifts his head, doesn’t realize he’d thrown it back, sees him stretched over, shuffling through Derek’s night stand and emerge with a triumphant look when he finds the bottle of lube Derek keeps there. He’s not even going to try and think how Stiles knows that but he’s gonna start kicking the pack out when he’s not home. Stiles’ attention is back on him, eyes locked on his as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, slicking them up.

“Stiles are you-“ Stiles adds a bit of lube then slides a finger into him slowly as Derek is speaking. A choked gasp is all he could give to finish his sentence. Derek relaxes, starts to push back on Stiles’ finger, and needs more of that feeling. Apparently Stiles is more than happy to oblige when he adds another shortly after, pumping into Derek. It feels good but it’s just not enough. Nothing will feel like enough until it’s Stiles in him. Derek reaches down, wraps his hand around Stiles’ wrist to still him and tries to speak as best he can.

“You,” Derek tries. “I need _you_ ,” and he’s so happy when Stiles nods. As Stiles moves to slick himself up, and Derek is lying there panting, he thinks about how this is such a different side of Stiles than he has ever seen. He’s so calm, so focused and filled with love. Train of thought is quickly derailed when Stiles gets back between his legs and leans down to kiss him. They’re lost in the kiss when Stiles begins to inch his way in. He’s swallowing the gasps escaping Derek’s lips and he quickly wraps his legs around Stiles’ waist. Once Stiles was fully inside, they both stopped, another kiss followed, and Derek just wanted to fucking envelope himself in Stiles. His arms wrapped around Stiles’ neck pulling him closer, deepening the kiss before finally letting him go to catch his breath. Stiles was panting now too but sits up a bit to start thrusting into Derek. They’re moaning, lost in each other, Derek meeting ever thrust Stiles is giving. They seem to complete each other, fitting together perfectly in a way Derek would have never thought they would. Stiles is reaching down for his dick, pumps once before Derek is pushing his hand away.

“No, just from you,” he manages and Stiles looks at him for a moment, doesn’t say a thing and just leans down to kiss him. Derek kisses back quickly before Stiles is pulling away again to continue his thrusts. They’re meeting each other every time and something happens in Derek where he becomes so lost, so encompassed in Stiles that he never wants to let him go. Stiles’ pace is quickening, everything becoming too much as his fingers rake their way down Derek’s chest. Derek loves every moment of it and when their eyes lock again, Stiles pushes in once more, a bit harder, twice, three times and he’s coming. The feeling of Stiles spilling into him sends Derek reeling and he’s coming undone shortly after, untouched. Stiles is collapsing on top of him and Derek groans when Stiles pulls out. He wraps his arms around the younger man, holding him close and Stiles tilts his head to kiss him. It’s a mess of lazy, beautiful kisses and Derek can’t even say a thing. It’s perfect, so perfect. Derek thinks that maybe, he can allow himself to have this one thing. They stay wrapped in each other, nothing but the sound of each other’s breathing around them. It’s quiet for bit before Derek feels Stiles’ body shaking with laughter.

-xxx-

“So cliché,” Stiles laughs.

“What was?” Derek asks then.

“Sitting on a rooftop, kissing my boyfriend under the _stars_ ,” he makes a grand motion when he says the last word that he makes himself giggle. Derek is arching an eyebrow at him and there’s an expression that he can’t read plastered on his face. He isn’t saying anything, so Stiles is worried, back tracking his words. Maybe he didn’t find it funny to joke about it? Maybe- shit. Shit, **shit** , _shit_.

“Boyfriend?” Derek finally asks. Honestly, this whole brain to mouth filter is going to be the death of him. His eyes widen in horror and he’s about to apologize but then Derek is flipping them over, pressing down onto him and kissing him until he can’t breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The melody: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxM45dOrb10  
> The music box: http://alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com/post/57219501204/it-was-an-intricate-vintage-design-not-like-every  
> The Song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pY9b6jgbNyc  
> My tumblr: alllisonmccalls.tumblr.com


	6. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek tell Sheriff Stilinski that they are dating and everything is fine until Stiles reveals a secret he's been keeping to himself for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than necessary but I'm trying to complete a podfic for a friend and it's really long. Thank you for reading!

It started out as any other day. The sun came up, the birds were chirping endlessly outside the window and Sheriff Stilinski was interrogating someone like it was his jo- _oh, wait_.

“So you mean to tell me that you two,” his father gestures between him and Derek, “are _dating_?”

“Dad,” Stiles starts as he scrubs his hand over his face. “We’ve been over this like four times already. Yes, we’re dating.” The sudden urge to hold Derek’s hand as he says it is strong but he decides against it. Moving closer to Derek instead, he bumps his shoulder against his, fingers brushing as they dangle on their respective sides. He feels more than sees Derek’s head move to down at the brush of fingers. Instinct must have kicked in because a moment later, their fingers are intertwined. Stiles smiles, a genuine smile and his father must see it because he visibly relaxes.

“Son,” his father says as he walks closer. “Does this make you- does _he_ make you happy?” The question isn’t even done being asked before Stiles is nodding furiously.

“Yeah, Dad. More than ever.” Derek can probably tell he means it. Any slight uptick in his heart and he’d be able to tell, and by the looks of it he can. Derek is smiling too now.

“Sheriff Stilinski, if I may,” Derek begins to speak but is cut short by Stiles’ father.

“Mr. Hale, _if you may_ keep in mind my position and also that I am _not_ happy with this age difference. However, with that being said, I’m still not completely okay with this Wereworld either and I trust that you will keep my boy safe, as you have been.” Stiles in mortified by his fathers little interruption but understands. He _is_ still adjusting to this world. Stiles focuses as his father continues. “If you make him happy, that’s all I need to know. Understood?” The sheriff is looking at Derek with scrutiny and Stiles feels bad, he really does only it’s a bit funny so he starts to fidget. Giving Derek’s hand a reassuring squeeze, he waits.

“Understood, Sheriff.” Derek says then.

“Call me John,” his father says and reaches a hand out to shake Derek’s. Derek takes it with his free hand and it’s awkward for about twenty seconds until Stiles interjects.

“Okayyyy then, I smell food!” Running off into the direction of the kitchen, he pulls Derek along with him. Going to straight to Melissa who is doing something on the stove he can’t quite see, he gives her a kiss on the cheek. “God bless you,” Stiles says before he starts making these dying whale sounds to prove his hunger. “Feed meee!”

“Everyone out of my kitchen,” Melissa begins to literally shove everyone out. “Stiles and Derek, set the table,” she orders. “John, you can stir this pot so I can get dessert started.” Stiles perks up at the sound of food and scampers away to do what he’s told. It’s quiet in the dining room where he and Derek are putting out the china. The spoons and knives are cold in his hand as he lays them out. He peeks up at Derek on the other side of the table, placing the plates and he looks so relaxed, a smile playing at his lips.

“You okay there big guy?” Stiles asks, giving him his full attention. Derek looks up at him, schooling his expression into a scowl.

“I’m fine, I just-” he stops and Stiles wants to burst because he wants the end of that sentence, wants everything Derek is willing to give him. So Stiles waits, watches as Derek tries to find his words and tries to be as patient as he can.

“I like this,” he finishes, gesturing around them. Then, “with you.” Stiles’ heart melts. Before he knows it, he’s putting down the utensils in his hand, and making his way around the table. “I’m just really hap-” and before Derek can finish that sentence, Stiles is wrapping one hand around his neck, the other on his hip as he pulls him flush against him for a kiss. He kisses him as if he’s fragile, like if Stiles isn’t too careful he can break him. So he’s gentle when he can be, peppers Derek with little bits of love that he outright deserves and it’s perfect, completely so. It’s even better when Derek loses himself in the kiss, gets into it and cages Stiles in his embrace. It’s all so good, that is until he hears his father clearing his throat and Melissa’s, “Not in my dining room!” His face is flushed as he pulls away and Derek’s is no better.

“Well, dinner’s nothing if not completely awkward, amirite?” Stiles is laughing nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. Derek is rolling his eyes at him and moving to finish setting the plates. Stiles finds himself following, putting the rest of the utensils down before taking the seat beside Derek. Melissa and his father are sitting across from them and it’s all so _quiet._

-xxx-

“So Derek, did you ever start college?” Derek looks up at that, grateful for Melissa and answers her questions as best he could. “I took two years of engineering, got my masters.” He doesn’t mind talking about this, loves this topic of conversation.

“So you’re certified?” There’s genuine curiosity in her eyes and Derek can see why everyone loves her. She has such a motherly vibe, tries to care for them all as her own and it makes Derek’s chest ache whenever it reminds him of his own mother. They talk for most of the night, Derek talking about how the NYPD is known for being the best in the world and getting shifty eyes from John between Melissa and Stiles’ fits of laughter. The Sheriff tells a few old historic tales of Beacon Hills, how it got its name and stories that never made it to the paper. Melissa talks about the horrors of working the late shift at Beacon Hills Memorial and Stiles even chimes in with a few of his own close calls. It’s a great night and Derek feels so happy, so relaxed.

It’s bittersweet. Stiles’ hand is reaching for his under the table and he seeks his out. It feels like middle school, holding hands with your boyfriend under the table. But it’s perfect with Stiles, calming and seems to push away all the bitter parts eating away at him. It seems as though every waking minute with Stiles, every little touch, every moment they share, Stiles is tearing away at his walls. Scraping past the layers of this hard shell Derek has hidden himself beneath and it’s okay, he thinks, because there’s no one else he’d rather share his secrets, share _himself_ with. They play a game of cards, have some coffee and just hang out in the living room until it’s so late that Derek has to excuse himself.

“But it’s so early! You haven’t even had dessert!” He smiles at Melissa, but has to respectfully decline. “Maybe next time,” he tells her, which is assuming there will be a next time.

“I’d like that,” She tells him then. Derek watches as the Sheriff rises from the lounge chair then begins to walk towards him, and he has no idea why he feels _nervous._ “It was nice talking to you, son.” The Sheriff moves to clap a hand on his shoulder to which Derek instantly relaxes. There’s a moment where he catches Stiles’ eyes that makes him freeze. He hadn’t given much thought to if he was going to say goodnight or if Stiles was going to come back with him. He surprises himself with just how much he _needs_ Stiles to go with him.

 “You coming?” Derek asks softly. He knows he’s putting himself out there but he doesn’t care. It’s quiet for a moment as Stiles looks to his father then back at Derek. “Of course Grumpy Gills, let’s go.” And everything seems okay again. They say their goodbyes to John and Melissa on the porch steps before walking over to the car. As Derek opens the car door for Stiles to get in, he sees him stop in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” And shit, did he fuck up already?

“Let’s walk.” Stiles says. Derek is confused. It’s a twenty minute _drive_ to his home, why would Stiles want to walk the entire way there?

“ _Stiles_ ,” The Sheriff calls with a warning tone from the steps. “It’s late. 2 am late.”

“I know Dad, it’s cool. Derek will protect me from any Big Bad.” Stiles says. It’s clear the Sheriff doesn’t like this but he doesn’t do more than glare and tell them to be safe as he follows Melissa inside, shutting the door behind them.

“Stiles…” Derek is still disconcerted but when the younger man comes over to pull him by his hand towards the road, he just goes. They’re walking for about fifteen minutes when Derek decides he’s going to say something. Before he can, Stiles finally speaks.

“I’m not weird.” Well _that_ isn’t what he expected.

“I didn’t-“ Derek starts.

“But you were thinking it for the past twenty or so minutes why we were out here.” Derek doesn’t mind when Stiles cut him off all that much, especially when he’s right. So he thinks of what to say, putting his hands in his pockets as they continue their walk. He doesn’t mind this, the winding roads, the familiar forest around them or the chilly night. It’s all perfect.

“I wanted to show you something.” Stiles tells him as he moves off of the road they are on and turns into the woods.

“Stiles, it’s late.” Derek tries but the look he gets makes him feel absolutely _ridiculous_ for arguing.

“You’re not the only one who knows these woods like the back of his hand.” And if he thinks about it, Stiles is probably right. He has lived here his whole life. Begrudgingly, Derek stops arguing and follows his boyfriend into the woodland. _Ha, boyfriend._ Derek’s never going to get used to that. They walk for what seems like half an hour before Stiles comes to a halt. To be honest, he’s surprised Stiles made it this far without falling.

“We’re here," Stiles says and Derek doesn’t remember the last time he was this bewildered. Taking in his surroundings, he can tell they’re about two miles away from where Stiles’ home is, but there is nothing around him but woods.

“I don’t get it,” Derek tells him.

“I’m going to show you something. I’m trusting you with it so you can’t tell _anyone_ where it is.” Derek has no idea what he’s about to see but he nods anyway. There will never be a reason for him to betray Stiles’ trust. The younger man is holding his gaze, seemingly trying to sense any hesitation but he won’t find it here. Stiles nods like he just found the confirmation he was looking for, says a simple ‘okay’ before he’s looking up between the trees. He shuffles beneath them for a moment or so, and then gets down on his knees. He starts brushing aside all the dead leaves and dirt and Derek has no idea what’s going on.

“Stiles, what are you-“ he stops at the sound of a latch being turned. It’s pulled open and he stares wide-eyed as Stiles reveals something resembling an underground _bomb shelter_? At least he thinks it is. He doesn’t have much time to think though, because soon, Stiles is descending down the ladder and out of his vision.

“What is this? Come back here!” He’s standing there besides the opening of the door, looking down and sees nothing but complete darkness.

“Come down!” Is all he hears in response. There is a long drawn out sigh as he moves to climb down but he stops abruptly because he _can’t._ He looks around the edges of the entry and sees the dark charred powdered line of mountain ash.

“Stiles, I can’t. It’s protected.” Derek tells him and now, he’s definitely curious as to what is down there. He hears Stiles mumble something along the lines of ‘shit, I forgot about that’ before climbing back up. Derek waits patiently as Stiles focuses his energy, breaks the seal. He’s about to ask one of the million questions running through his mind but then Stiles is going back down the ladder. There’s a sigh that escapes Derek this time because seriously? It isn’t long before he follows suit then emits a strangled sound as he pauses to look around.

“It was my mothers,” Stiles reveals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is almost complete. Anyone think they know what's inside the room?  
> Find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/amehmancini  
> Find me on Tumblr: http://elegantlydisastrous.tumblr.com/


	7. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek finally learns the secret Stiles has been hiding about his mother.

It’s made like a small apartment. There are droves of books on shelf after shelf that are practically wallpapering the room. Derek has no idea what to say, he takes a few tentative steps over to one of the shelves, fingers brushing across the spine of one of the books. His breath catches for a second as his mothers favorite book, The Last of the Mohicans by James Fenimore Cooper sends his mind reeling back to the past momentarily. He remembers being a child, asking her why out of all of the books she owned, she’d always go back to that one. Recalls her answer, telling him that a book about the dying population who are not treated like people but still live, love and laugh remind her of brutal reality sometimes. He thinks about how he was too young to understand what she meant at the time.

Deciding it’s best to stay away from that train of thought for a while; he moves away from the shelf and takes cautious steps around the space. There’s a desk on his right that is littered with papers. Behind it stands a board filled with newspaper clippings, drawings of different were-things and written theories. _What is this?_ Based on everything he’s seeing, not only did Stiles’ mother _know_ about his kind but she _hunted_ his kind. This is impossible. This can’t be right. There’s no way his parents knew about a hunter in the area and didn’t tell them about it. There was a list. A list which was handed down, constantly updated, which was branded into their minds for their families safety, for their _own_.

“How? She wasn’t-“ Derek is in shock. “She wasn’t on the list.” He turns to face Stiles who is smiling. Not a smug smile but a small fond smile that usually plays on his lips when he speaks about his mother. “She wasn’t like the others,” is all that Stiles gives him in response.

“When did you find out?” Derek decides to ask next, walking past a few family photos hanging on the wall. His eyes linger on one of Stiles wrapped safely in a blanket in his crib. There’s a small little wolf plush in the corner of the crib and Derek hides the smirk that’s threatening to play on his lips. He keeps moving, fingers tracing the wall as he goes.

“A few months ago,” he hears Stiles say. He reaches the back wall and wonders briefly what’s behind the closed door staring back at him. Turning around to face Stiles, he arches a questioning brow. He sees the younger mans shoulders tense before he takes a few steps forward. The reaction Stiles is having just from Derek asking about the room is making him even more curious as to what’s inside. He waits as Stiles opens the door, breaks the line of ash and follows him inside. Most of the walls are lined with glass cases of weaponry ranging from crossbows, to rifles and so much more. The back wall looks like something out of a science laboratory, with microscopes, herbs and jars of what seems to be mountain ash.

“Your father?” Derek asks absently as he walks around the room, fingers still running along the surfaces as he moves. He’s amazed at what he’s seeing, angry he knew nothing about it and yet looking at it all in wonder.

“No one knows. What I got so far from looking through everything, gramps was a Lycan.” Derek’s head whips around at that, searching Stiles’ face for some form of uncertainty. All he gets in response is a shrug. “He’s gone from what I can tell.” Derek doesn’t know what to do with this information. Perhaps he has a bit more in common with Stiles than he originally thought.

“Why now?” Derek doesn’t want to push his luck, knows this probably means a lot to be able to share with someone and to be completely honest he’s overwhelmed but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to know why he waited this long. He watches as Stiles walks back out to the main room and sits down on a ratty old love seat, patting the empty spot beside him. Derek follows.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you before,” and that’s a rough way to start a conversation. He listens as Stiles continues, “We just weren’t where we are right now. Does that make any sense? I don’t know if that’s making any sense.” In a way, it does so Derek doesn’t blame him. He vows to help Stiles keep this a secret, protect it when it needs protecting. The weight of Stiles’ words and the trust he has in Derek shows volumes and then they’re climbing up the ladder to get back out of here.

-xxx-

Stiles takes his time in replacing the ash barrier before closing the latch and covering the door with leaves and dirt. He would never want to risk anyone being able to find this place. With a quick nod to the ground once he’s done then a silent ‘until next time’ to his mother, Stiles is ready to start walking again. Derek doesn’t push, patient with him through this entire time and he appreciates it. While they walk, they pass by the Stilinski home, Stiles’ breath catching in his throat. He feels Derek’s arm slink around his shoulder, pull him close and keep them moving.

It’s quiet for a while and they’re only about another mile from Derek’s apartment when Stiles has to ask the question that’s been bothering him since this whole thing with them started.

“How did you know?” Stiles bumps his shoulder against Derek’s lightly.

“How did I know?” Derek is giving him this comically confused stare and Stiles would love to laugh except he really wants an answer so he focuses.

“Where I was… _that night_ , how to find me.” Stiles clarifies and he can see the exact moment realization dawns on Derek.

“I was out, heard these three women talking about it,” he supplies.

“And? What did you do?” Stiles presses, keeping his eyes focused ahead of him as they walk, waiting for his answer.

“I came to you,” Derek tells him slowly like he’s speaking to a child.

“You came straight here?” He needs to hear this from Derek, needs a concrete answer. But when he turns his head to look at Derek again he’s a few steps behind, stopped in his tracks.  

"I was _terrified_ , Stiles. I ran straight to you." Stiles doesn’t know what to say that that. He suddenly can’t breathe and he’s feeling a million different emotions all at once. His body is taking careful steps of their own accord over to where Derek is standing until he’s standing flush against him. Derek’s shirt is being held tightly in his grasp, two small balled up fists against his chest. “Really?” Stiles is asking even though he can see the honesty in Derek’s eyes, the truth written on his face.

“Really,” Derek answers after a moment and then Stiles is overwhelmed. He’s so overcome with emotion that all he can do is kiss him until he can barely stand on his own two feet. The weight of their words hang between them, felt in every press of lips and all Stiles wants to do is hold him. He wants to keep him close, to never let him go; make him feel as safe as Stiles does when he’s with him. Derek seems startled, but then he’s parting his lips and kissing him back with just as much intensity. Stiles can’t help it, shuddering as they pull apart and rests his forehead on Derek’s.

“I trust you,” Derek says to him then in a barely audible whisper and Stiles feels like his ability to breathe was just taken from him. He knows what that means to someone like Derek. “That’s bigger to me than I love you.” Stiles is nodding against him, he feels like he’s going to cry or like his heart is going to explode when he responds with, “I do too, I trust you.” They stay that way for a while, Stiles’ hands still gripping Derek tightly against him and Derek’s hands wrapped around his waist. It isn’t until Stiles starts shivering from the cold that he feels Derek finally pull away from him as they start to move again.

They fall into a comfortable silence, Stiles’ heart still hammering away in his chest until they finally get to the loft. They’re undressed and under the covers in record time as they lie facing each other. Stiles doesn’t know what to say. Well, he does but he just doesn’t know _how_ to say it. He feels like he’s just had an epiphany, an awakening inside of him letting him know just how strongly he feels for this man. Derek must be feeling the same with the way he’s staring at Stiles like he’s trying to get him to understand _something_. He just does what he feels is right, pressing his lips to Derek’s once, twice, three times before curling up at his side and falling asleep to the sound of Derek’s heart beating just as wildly as his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do we think about Mama Stilinski? Also there are only two more chapters left. Thank you for everyone who left comments/kudos. 
> 
> Find me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/amehmancini  
> Find me on Tumblr: http://elegantlydisastrous.tumblr.com/


End file.
